


Lashed

by Karieauthoress (ksrandomme), ksrandomme



Series: Deja Vu [5]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-03-26
Updated: 2009-03-26
Packaged: 2017-10-19 11:03:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/200128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/Karieauthoress, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ksrandomme/pseuds/ksrandomme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Shaman meets Madman in this installment of the Deja Vu series.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Lashed

_*November 15th – Man, in the last few days I feel like I have been thrown every which way that I barely know which way is up anymore. It’s been intense. And most of it all falls on my shoulders, if I only had listened when I got that feeling… we just might have been able to catch the serial killer that first night. But no, I had to stay to the bitter end.*_

 _*Guess I should clarify, I’m not really making much sense here. So back to the start. It had been pretty smooth sailing for about two weeks, me and Jim had really began to mesh after he asked me to stay that one night. We settled into a nice routine of doing tests and gathering data. And the police work was just as Jim had said, writing reports, paperwork, internet searches and chasing down leads. It had been fun, most of the time. Then a few nights ago Jim got some extra tickets to see the Jags! Oh man, it was sooooo cool. The Jags are like my all time favorite team. Jim’s too. So, when he asked me if I wanted to go with him, I was so there! But of course that is the start of it all right there. See I started to get this buzz at about the two minute warning mark, Jim echoed it. He wanted to head out, but not me. No, as I said before, I wanted to stay to the bitter end even though the game was a shoo-in to win.*_

 _*That would have been the reason when we got stuck in traffic and took so long to respond when the call came in about the report of a prowler. We answered the call of course, Jim wasn’t about to let it go when we were the closest, even if we *were* stuck in traffic. But I guess you already know we were too late.*_

 _*I really didn’t see much when we got to the scene, I mean I guess I could tell you how the townhome was nice enough – tastefully decorated, floors looked like they could have been some kind of polished marble – but that really wasn’t why I was there. I was there to help Jim with his senses, not that you could have proven that by the damn spirit guides. I don’t know why, but when I went to follow Jim - after he heard a sound distracting him from going upstairs – down the hall and into the bathroom, I got squashed into the wall and pinned there by Panther. And let me tell you, 160 pounds of determined feline is not easily shaken off. I didn’t have a prayer. Thankfully, Jim didn’t notice. I would have hated to have had to explain at this stage about the opinionated, corporeally optional beasties and my interactions with them. Or his, since Wolf was so helpfully sticking close to him in the bathroom doing the job I was supposed to be doing – making sure Jim didn’t zone.*_

 _*Luckily or not, Jim’s preoccupation on the dead body in the deep claw-footed tub made it mostly academic. From where I was I could catch barely a glimpse of a hand, maybe a foot, I wasn’t sure, the angle was bad so I really wasn’t able to see anything at all. I guess that was the point, for some reason the guides didn’t want me to see the body. Why? I didn’t have much time to wonder about it because all of a sudden the weight I had been half-heartedly struggling against vanished. I stumbled, short of breath and off balance. Jim, who had been backing out of the bathroom, whirled around to catch me as I collided with him. Man, I just knew he thought I had been freaked out by the body when it was nothing of the sort! His gentle asking me if I was alright pretty much confirmed it – gods he must think I am such a wuss! Well, I gave my statement – such as it was – and then went home alone. Jim had to stick around, deal with the crap. The body. You know, something tells me I was very lucky to be spared seeing that sight. That something of course could be plain old common sense – who really needs to see a body, let alone one of a murder victim?*_

 _*Anyway, tonight Jim is working late and I have a date. The beauteous Christine. She has been trying to get my attention for weeks but I have been so distracted, it just wouldn’t have been fair. But right now I think I *need* a night to myself. Plus, Jim has started to throw some funny looks my way and right now I really don’t need the ‘Is he gay?’ suspicions getting in the way of our friendship right now. That would just suck.*_

o-O-o

Blair and Christine sat together on the couch; her feet tucked up underneath her, his legs splayed out in a relaxing pose. They had eaten inner, drank a little wine, and were now just talking about whatever came to mind. Blair’s attention, very unfocused, slipped to Christine eventually and he smiled. “You’re so beautiful.”

She smiled back and kissed him on the cheek. “Took you long enough to notice.”

“Oh no, I noticed right away. I was just too busy to act on it.” He protested and then grinned saucily at her. Then he turned to kiss her fully on the lips, once, twice. “I’m acting on it now though,” he growled as he wrapped a hand in her long black hair, drawing her closer for a more in depth study of her mouth. She sighed and melted into the embrace.

“So tell me,” she muttered into his mouth, “What have you been doing that’s kept you so busy?”

“Oh nothing, really,” he replied as he stroked one hand down her side, teasing her ribs with his fingertips, “Just class, teaching, students, my dissertation committee breathing down my neck.”

“Awww, poor baby,” she soothed as she ran her fingers through his hair, locking onto the soft curls and holding him still for another quick sweep around the teeth. He moaned softly. She pulled back for air, one hand drifting down from his hand, across his chest and down to the warm heat of his groin. “You know, you are constantly a surprise to me, Blair.”

“How so?” he asked distractedly as he shifted on the couch, slouching back against the arm behind him and drawing her up with him. She smiled as she sat up over him, looking him directly in the eyes.

“Well, I mean, why cops? You had a plan and suddenly you are hanging out with police officers. Did you actually change your diss topic?” She leaned in to nip at his lips, his mouth too irresistible to ignore. He chuckled at her playful mood and answered as honestly as he could.

“Nah, this is just an alternate topic I have going. And I don’t hang with them all the time. I mean, I still want to be able to see my mother some times.” Blair watched the confusion flush Chris’ face. She sat up carefully.

“What does this have to do with your mother?” she asked. Blair sat up again, relaxing against the couch as he felt the mood shifting.

“Well, it’s just that… I mean, she doesn’t know that I’m working on an alternate dissertation. Or that it’s about cops. If she found out, it would piss her off.” He smiled again, his thoughts on just how he was going to break this to Naomi when he got a chance to see her again. Chris reached over and picked up her glass of wine, taking a careful sip.

“So, this is you being rebellious?” she clarified. Blair shook his head.

“More like being rude. Rebellious would be for me to go totally corporate. That’s something she’s been fighting for years, since I was a little kid riding in the peace marches on her hip.” Blair sipped his own wine thoughtfully. “If she found out my new roomie was a cop... man, I don't know what she'd think. One never knows with Naomi." He laughed. "She could assume I was taking a walk on the wild side or maybe that I was trying to subvert one of the oppressors. Maybe something even stranger, my mother's mind works in mysterious ways."

Christine stared. Then she shook her head. "You know, that little speech about your mother and her reactions told me much of what I always wondered about you, about the man you seem to be anyway."

“Care to clue me in?”

"Well, you are actually comfortable in your own skin. That isn't something a lot of people get to experience." Christine watched him for a moment. “You are so together in your life. You’ve been there, done that. It’s rather refreshing, and a little disconcerting.”

“I wouldn’t go so far as that, Chris,” Blair snorted. “And as for having it all together, I work like a dog 7 days a week for very little pay. I live with a roommate who is so staunch about his house rules that I can’t flush the toilet after 10pm.”

"But it doesn't really bother you, does it? It's like following the customs of a tribe, you go with the flow." Her eyes dared him to object. Blair shrugged his shoulders.

“Yeah well, what else can I do?”

"I would think, with your background, your knowledge, you could do anything you want to do,” she pressed. “I mean, what’s going to happen to Blair Sandburg in the next 3-5 years?”

"I don't know, haven't really thought about it." Blair said. "Hell I haven't really thought about what's gonna happen to 'Blair Sandburg' in the next 3-5 days. You can't always plan things out Chris, sometimes you have to go with the flow as you said."

Only he had. He thought about it often. Every time he woke with another vision, a glimpse into the future he was avoiding, he was reminded of where his life was headed. But that really wasn’t pillow talk, and Blair was fast realizing that this evening was coming to an end. The rattle of the door knob startled them both and they turned to see Jim walk in.

“Hey Sandburg, if you got a sec, Oh hello…” Jim trailed off as he caught sight of Christine and Blair relaxing on the sofa together. He coughed discretely before making his way over to the fridge for a beer. Blair gulped, rolled his eyes in surprise and flushed with embarrassment as Christine climbed off the sofa and went searching for her shoes.

As she carefully leaned over to slip on her heels, she held a hand out to Jim. “Christine Hong, Nice to meet you… Jim, right?”

Clasping it warmly in his own, he let her use him as a steady post as she put on her second shoe. Blair smiled at the completely comfortable atmosphere that seemed to have fallen on the loft. As if it were every day that Blair’s date of the month met his new roommate. Blair leaned forward and dropped his head in his hands. He waved a hand between the two of them briefly.

“Jim, Christine… Christine, Jim… who is supposed to be working. I can only assume that you’ve gotten a new case, Jim?” Blair finished as he heaved himself off the sofa and leaned in to blow out the candles on the low coffee table. Christine smiled as Jim canted his head to the side at his overly casual roommate.

“Yeah, actually I do… I’ll tell you about it later, it’s under a media blackout right now.” Jim glanced apologetically at Christine. “Sorry.”

“No apology necessary. You’re a cop, it happens.” Christine pulled on her coat, with a little help from Blair, and waited for him to open the door for her. She smiled back at Jim, “Nice to have met you Jim.”

Jim nodded and moved off towards the table. Blair moved in to block his few and leaned in to kiss the pretty lady good-bye. “So, I’ll see you later?”

Christine kissed him back, lightly, delicately, as friends often do. “Yeah, let me know how you’re doing. I’m intrigued by this new dissertation, if it takes you to the extreme of hanging with cops.”

Blair chuckled mischievously before shutting the door behind her. Neither of them said good-bye. Blair turned back to Jim and noticed the seriously concerned look in the man’s eye. Blair sighed. “You ever have one of those dates that just doesn’t work out but you are both good enough eggs to stay friends afterwards?”

Jim thought for a moment. “Once or twice… that’s one for you, I take it?”

Blair smiled. “Yeah, Chris is good people.”

Jim nodded. “Caro and I are like that.” He shifted uncomfortably in his seat as Blair came to sit across from him.

“So, what’s with the new case?” Asked Blair. He looked his friend over and wasn’t happy with what he saw. Jim sighed.

“The Susan Frasier case…” Jim said, as if that were all the answer that Blair needed.

“The woman in the tub? Wow…” Blair sat back stunned. Jim’s face screwed up in disgust.

“Caro gave me two other cases each of them about a month older than the last… Same yellow scarves, same manner of death. Same missing items, pictures, clothing, trinkets from the victim’s homes. Simon’s called for a media black-out and wants me to try and sort out who might be doing this. I know a little something about serial killers.” Jim sat back with his beer. Blair nodded in understanding.

“Yeah, remember I took Psychology in my undergrad days. I know a little something about people’s minds. Let me look at some of the evidence and give you a sort of profile.” Blair nudged hopefully. Jim cast him a dubious look before giving an exaggerated shrug and rising from the table with his empty beer bottle.

“Sure thing, Chief. Knock yourself out. I’m going to start with the physical evidence that Caro has from the other two cases tomorrow. In the mean time, see what you get from the drowning of the victims, the yellow scarves tied around their necks… and the missing items from the victims homes.” Blair listened and reached over to grab a notebook and pencil, taking notes as Jim spoke them. When Jim paused, Blair looked up.

“How many items are we talking about here, Jim? A necklace? A brooch?”

Jim shook his head. “No, I’m talking about all of the important things. Pictures from the frames, clothing from the closets… it’s almost as if Susan Frasier moved out and then came back to die in her own tub.”

Blair wrote a few more lines, and then moved around the loft cleaning his evenings mess. Once the loft was back in shape, he went into his bedroom to get some sleep. He didn’t notice when Jim went to prepare for bed, nor did he realize that Jim was waiting in his bed above him, listening to the sound of Blair’s heartbeat in the silence of the night.

o-O-o

Jim was gone by the time Blair came out of the shower the next day, but then Blair was pretty busy himself. He barely made his first class, and had an hour before his second class, so he thought a call to the station was in order. He sat in his office and dialed Jim’s cell phone number from memory.

 _*#”Ellison.”#*_

“Hey Jim, how goes the evidence sorting?” Blair asked flippantly. His reward was a chuckle from the other end. When he was sure that Jim was paying attention again, Blair launched into his conversation. “So, I had a thought this morning, and you need to find out more than this guy’s MO. You need to sort out his signature. Every killer has one.”

 _*#”Yeah, Chief, we already sorted that out, remember? The yellow scarves that he leaves around the victim’s necks.”#*_ Jim retorted good naturedly. Blair shook his head even as he explained.

“That’s only part of it, man. There’s also the drowning, the taking of items. Even how the person selects their victims is part of it. If we knew what connected the three victims, we would have a better idea of what this guy is thinking, what he may be feeling…” Blair rambled on even as he saw the hands of the clock on his desk telling him he was almost out of time if he wanted to get back across the quad before his next class. “Look, man I have to get going. I’ll see you tonight, my turn to cook, right?”

 _*#”Sure thing, Sandburg. Hey, thanks for this, I didn’t think about those little details… Hey, think on this, the voice on the 911 call the other night, was not Susan Frasier. What does that tell you?”#*_

Blair knew that Jim had to be smirking on the other end of the line. This was an interesting clue. “Tells me that the killer is playing a game of mimic with his victims after their death… man, this is seriously spooky.”

Saying his good-byes to Jim, Blair was pleasantly surprised that he didn’t miss his class. His mind was buzzing with the possibilities with this case. For the killer to take on the persona of his or her victim after death. It could only mean one of two things. Either a female killer, and that was just off cause there have been very few recorded female serial killers on the books. Or a man playing both sides of the gender gap.

Blair was betting on the latter.

o-O-o

Two hours later, Blair got a call while finishing up the last test grading for his students. He picked it up on the first ring. “Blair Sandburg, Anthropology.”

 _*#” Hey Chief, wanna join me for a funeral?””#*_ Blair smiled at Jim’s joking tone. It was nice having the big guy as a friend. He sobered quickly as he laid the last test on the pile and stood up, grabbing his jacket as he did so.

“Meet you out front in fifteen?” he replied. He knew who this funeral was for; he had read the paper like everyone else. Although he was surprised that so much information had leaked out to the press. So much for Simon’s media black-out.

 _*#”Will do, you can spring for lunch afterwards.”#*_ Jim grinned into the phone. Blair rolled his eyes. Fine, he would pay for food, but on one condition.

“I get to pick the place.” He was pretty certain he knew what the answer was going to be. Although begrudgingly, Jim agreed and Blair was out the door in minutes of ending the call.

o-O-o

Jim pulled up in front of the church, finding a decent spot and parking quickly. There were already several reporters with cameras and microphones at the ready. Blair grimaced; this was not going to be good. He mentally began planning their escape from the church and the hounding press when they were finished. He tuned in to what Jim was asking about a half second later than normal.

“—could be in an open casket. You going to be okay with that?” Jim asked as he slid a hand to the small of Blair’s back. Blair smiled brightly.

“Jim, I didn’t see her until the evidence photos. I’m pretty sure she looks a lot better than she did before that. It’s not the first funeral I have been to, unfortunately.” Blair assured his Mother-hen. Jim rolled his eyes a moment before leading Blair towards the church. It was filling up fast, bottlenecking at the door. Blair sighed. They were sure to get caught.

Jim continued to mutter as they strolled along the sidewalk. “Remember we talked about typical serial killer quirks? One of them is hanging out to admire their work. There’s a good chance we might find someone odd lurking around the victim’s family.”

Blair nodded. “Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that. You said the killer called 911, and sounded like Susan Frasier?”

“She tried.” Jim agreed, they were coming close to the press now. Blair waved a hand in a ‘tell you about it later’ gesture and the two stepped into the throng of press, pushing through to the church entrance. Don Hass was the one who got Jim’s attention. The big man tensed as Blair heard Hass’ question.

“Detective Ellison? My sources report that it was actually the killer who placed the victim's 911 call.”

Blair blinked. What the hell? Jim had only told this to Blair a few hours before! Who could have told the press about that call during a media blackout? Jim growled as he shoved through, carrying Blair along with him. Hass pressed further with, “Any comment?”

Jim’s answer to Hass was almost irreverent in its tone. “Yeah. I'm late for church.”

Blair smothered a snicker at the retort, and then they were inside. Jim pushed Blair forward, urging him to get up close and personal with people in the main room while Jim made his way up into the balcony to get a better look. The Minister continued his intonation, as he led the congregation through the burial ritual the family felt was appropriate.

Blair felt the collective hum of the mourners, the empathic buzz that usually told him if a person was safe or unbalanced in their daily life. The people here were giving off a low hum, a slow note that, had it been a choir, would have denoted pain and sadness in this moment in time. He took his time finding a place to sit, and soaked in the emotions of those around him.

Now normally Blair would be paying attention to everyone and everything around him, letting the understandably low-key hum that he always felt in large gatherings of people wash around him as he tried to get some insight into the culture of the gathered congregation. But not today. No, today he had a different goal; his focus was on one thing - find the odd man, or woman, out. When the Minister invited people to come up and say their last farewells to Susan Frasier, Blair stood along with the group around him.

His eyes scanned the room as his body registered the changing variations and waves of emotion in the people. One body let off something uncomfortable and at first Blair was curious to see who that person would be. Turning to focus on the woman that stood at the casket, his entire being registered a wave of feeling incongruous to those around him. A teeth jarring twang that sent tendrils of unease through his entire body. He blinked, and shook his head distractedly for a moment. This wasn’t right.

He made as if to step up to the woman, but was halted by the near physical manifestation of Wolf, who hit his knee and caused him to stumble in the aisle. He moved again but looked up and noticed the woman was gone! Glancing at the balcony told him that Jim was also gone, so Blair headed for the main doors. He knew what had been wrong, just as Jim had. The thing that had been wrong about her - she had been dressed head to toe in the dead woman's clothes. Blair made it out the front doors, only to be accosted by the press, but they weren’t interested in him. One of the reporters, Hass, had followed Jim as the cop tried to head the woman off.

Failing that, Jim raced for the truck, climbing in and chasing after the mystery woman. Blair sighed. She was gone. A woman, possibly the killer, and Jim was after her. Blair took a couple of calming breaths before he pulled his cell phone out of his pocket and called the local taxi service. There was no way he could catch up to Jim now. Best bet would be to wait for him either at home of the station.

At the last minute, Blair decided that his best bet was to go pick up his car and go home.

o-O-o

Jim returned home late that night. Blair was finishing up on his journal reading when he heard the key in the lock. He flowed from Living room to kitchen area with as much stealth as possible, attempting to remove as many stress variables as possible. Something in Jim’s stance told Blair that the big man was having trouble. Blair remained silent as he took the jacket from too tense shoulders and hung it on the requisite hook. He gently pushed the man towards the bathroom.

Jim turned to object, only to come up against the firm face of his friend. “Go, Jim. Take a hot shower, let it ease some of the tension from your muscles. You know this stuff. I’ll have dinner ready when you get out.”

“Not hungry,” muttered Jim. Blair shook his head.

“Not something heavy. Go, now.”

Jim begrudgingly obeyed and it was a much calmer Sentinel who came from the bathroom with his hair still damp and his robe cinched at the waist. He sat at the table gingerly, his shoulders slumped. Blair set a plate of toast and a mug of cocoa in front of him and went to check the bathroom. He was trying very hard to keep the loft clean and tidy, since Jim was such a stickler for organization. The curse double whammy of being a Sentinel Warrior as well as a Cop. Made hiding evidence difficult and kept spikes and zones to a minimum.

When he was certain that the loft was ready for shrink wrapping, he returned to find Jim had finished the toast, half the cocoa, and was about to fall asleep with his head in one hand. Blair smiled. Poor man must have been frustrated. He tugged on Jim’s sleeve, encouraging him to rise from his seat and climb the stairs to his bed. After tucking the big man under the warm sheets, Blair turned out the lights, cleaned the dishes on the table, locked the door, and went to bed. They would have time tomorrow to deal with the heavy stuff. Now was time for sleep.

o-O-o

Blair was the one running the next morning before Jim was even out of bed. Leaving a note on the table as to where he was going, Blair made it to the University library before the doors opened. His first stop was sociology and psychology. After reading up on a few text books that he remembered from his undergraduate days, he set out to write a profile for Jim and his team to sort through.

*Age: 25-35, White male, history of apathy towards others. Has a weak sense of self, loner, stand-offish as a child.  
*Abused by one or both parents as a child.  
*Doesn’t react typically towards subjects such as death or loss.  
*Is unremorseful of his actions.  
*Chooses people who tend to stand out in a crowd.  
*Probably wonders why they have the strength to move among people and he can’t muster the ability.  
*Is not punishing these people, but wants to become like them.*

Blair paused in his writing as he thought back over the funeral yesterday afternoon. The woman that Jim had chased after, Blair could have sworn that it was Susan Frasier, which was what had thrown him for a loop and scared him. That plus the sounds of the Vodun drums and shekeres had really shaken him.

Sitting back in his seat, Blair rubbed his eyes with his hands, displacing his glasses momentarily. This was a weak individual, but it was most definitely a man, had to be. Blair just didn’t know how to prove it. But this individual was tripping more than Blair’s people buttons. Something else was going on with this person. Something, mystical…

Blair sighed as he packed his things and headed for the door. He had two classes to teach and a paper to finish for his own class today. If he had time, he would have to stop by the grocery store today and get a few extra ingredients for dinner tonight. Even though, technically, it was Jim’s night to cook, last night had not been a typical evening for either of them. And Blair felt certain that a decent home cooked meal waiting for Jim at home would make him feel much better after a long day trying to figure out which direction to go next.

He had seen the press report on the news this morning and knew that Jim had lost the mysterious ‘woman in black’ who had been wearing, of all things, Susan Frasier’s dress and shoes… and driving her car. Suddenly, Blair was struck with a thought, an idea that might give himself and Jim a better idea of their killer. He wanted that tape, he just had to figure out a way to coax it out of Don Hass’ hands!

o-O-o

In between classes, Blair called Jim, telling the cop about his suspicions. Jim thought the tape was a good idea, but suggested that he be the one to get the tape from Hass, on the pretext that it was evidence in the investigation, and that it was already a public forum, since Hass had displayed it that very morning. Blair had agreed and it was as if a weight had been lifted. He wasn’t sure if he, as a consultant to the department, would have been able to push for the tape.

Later, after a hearty dinner, he and Jim set the tape up for viewing, and discussed the conversation that Jim had with Simon earlier that morning.

“So the pushing wasn’t so hard, eh?” asked Blair as he knelt before the VCR player and cued up the tape. Jim snickered.

“Nah, once I reminded Hass that he didn’t have a leg to stand on and that, as a concerned citizen, it was in his best interests to provide a copy to me, he was only so happy to oblige.”

Blair glanced at Jim, his expression relaying that he could see through the bullshit just fine. “You threatened him with obstruction of justice, didn’t you?”

Jim snickered around his beer bottle. “Folded like a tin can. Come on, get that thing started all ready. Simon is getting tired of this leak going on, so he’s instructed me not to voice my suspicions with anyone but you.”

Blair paused in the action of picking up the control, his face tightened as he tried to come to terms with what Jim had just said. “Simon said that? I was sure that I would be the first suspect in terms of a leak.”

“You would think. But when Caro and I both backed you up, he had to admit that some of this stuff was getting out long before you even knew of it. That 911 call report was out before I told you, you didn’t have enough time to go running to Hass with that information.” Jim sat forward and clasped Blair’s arm warmly. “Plus, I know you wouldn’t. You aren’t the type to give out secrets for any reason. You understand discretion.”

Blair flushed red from the praise, then finally turned back to the TV and switched on the tape. From the speakers, they could hear Hass sputtering “What the hell? Roll the camera. Get some footage of this. Lady!”

This was the moment after Jim had rushed after the woman in black, Hass had gotten her in profile, but they couldn’t make out her face. Blair sighed. Jim sat forward again, his eyes taking in every detail he could. “Freeze it right there.”

Blair obeyed quickly, scanning the scene before him, looking for what Jim might have seen. It was as he had thought, the hair, the clothes, the car… “It looks like Susan Frasier.”

“Play it further,” Jim ordered as he came off the couch to kneel before the screen. Blair watched the tape continue and Hass speaking again.

“Get some footage of this. Keep on the car.” The tape showed the woman, her hair and face nearly covered by a black veil attached to her black hat, She was trying to get to the car ahead of Jim. Blair growled in frustration.

“Damnit, Hass, why couldn’t you have gotten a better look at the face!” Blair snarled. Jim waved a hand excitedly.

“Freeze it right there. Now back it up a little bit. Right there. You see it?” Blair did as told, stared at the sight that Jim had him stop at, and blinked.

“What am I looking at here, Jim?” he asked helplessly. He was frustrated and confused. This had not gotten him any closer to what he thought was the truth. Jim reached out and stroked Blair’s throat softly, his fingers light yet determined. He stopped on Blair’s Adam’s apple and rested for a moment there. Blair looked at the tape again. “Is that what I think it is?”

Jim nodded wordlessly. Blair began to vibrate with excitement. “I was right,” he whispered. “Gods, I was right!”

Leaping to his feet, he ran to his room and came out with his notebook. Jim was turning away from the screen and noticed the pages Blair was ripping out. “What were you right about?”

“This,” Blair thrust the paper into Jim’s hands, who turned them and began to read. After a minute, Jim looked up and stared Blair straight in the eye.

“You had this before you saw the tape. But we both saw a woman. Why did you say it was a man?”

Blair smiled. “Statistics, man. Any FBI profiler can tell you that most serial killers begin their careers in the 25-45 age range, and it is male rather than female. This one isn’t sexual, am I right? No rape involved with Susan Frasier or Billy Bright, or Adam Walker? It’s camouflage. He’s taking on the persona of his victims.”

“That’s why he takes the victim’s things. So that he has a readymade disguise.” Jim’s face unclouded as he began to understand. “I need to reexamine the other victims, first I want to get into Adam Walker’s neighborhood, then I want to check on Billy Bright. He used to play in a band at a place called Club Doom.”

“Club Doom… oh yeah, I’ve heard of that place. Best time to get any questions answered is well after dark… we’re talking about nearly midnight. But, I dunno man.” Blair gazed dubiously on his friend. “I think you might stand out too much.”

Jim lounged against the nearby counter, his arms crossed over his chest. “What makes you say that, Sandburg? I did undercover work in Vice.”

Blair shook his head. “Jim that was years ago, before Simon got a hold of you. Now you’re all stodgy and ‘cop’ like. You’ld get nothing but silence.” He thought for a moment before suggesting, “I could go in for you, ask a few questions?”

Jim glared. With a shake of his head and a chopping motion with his hand he argued, “No, no way, not without me.”

Blair sighed. “It’s a question and answer session, Jim. I don’t expect that our Unsub is going to come back there any time soon. He’s most likely already moved on to his next victim.”

Jim remained impassive. “It’s too risky. Look, let me run this by Bates tomorrow and then we can go together. You can ask all the questions and I’ll follow along.”

“And be all closed mouth?” Blair shook his head. “I would get more answers alone, rather than have to explain Mr. Strong and Silent. “

“And I still don’t want you going in alone.” Jim retorted back. Blair sighed as he leaned back against the couch cushions. This was getting them nowhere and Jim was getting angry. Time to throw him off a bit, lighten the mood.

“Ok, fine, but I pick what you wear. This is a more, liberal, back set. No one would argue with you being my... well..."

Jim’s eyes narrowed. "Your bodyguard?"

Blair smirked, deciding to up the ante a bit. He thrust his pelvis out a bit and slouched on the couch, his legs spread. Dropping his voice to a much lower register he asked, “That all you wanna guard, Big Guy?"

Jim’s eyes darken a bit as he took in the implications of Blair’s question. He blinked and canted his head to the side as he attempted to assimilate what Blair was suggesting. “Are you suggesting we go in there like...”

Blair shrugged carelessly before answering Jim’s questions with one of his own. "You object to being my... partner...?"

Jim said nothing for a moment and Blair was almost afraid he had overstepped. But then Jim gazed significantly back at him and rejoined with, “Fine, I'm the strong, silent type... you are my perky little love bunny.”

"You did not just say that... me? Perky?" Blair blustered for a moment, taken aback not by the words but the fact that Jim had accepted and snapped back in kind! Not to concern his friend, he felt duty bound to retort to the part that reflected against him. “Perky? Why does everyone have editorial comments about my energy level?”

Jim’s laughter filled the loft and Blair felt his work here was done.

o-O-o

Unfortunately, their plans didn’t play out the way they had talked them out. Jim got stuck at the station the night he and Blair were supposed to go talk to the band. Statements from the Adam Walker case and meeting Bates, the Forensic Psychiatrist from San Francisco’s FBI office, had Jim all tied up. And since the band was about to move onto another town and gig, Blair made the choice to go on his own.

So Blair put on his best clubbing clothes and drove over to the warehouse where Club Doom held shop, with spirit guides in tow, barely making it before they bolted the doors shut. Now all he had to do was find out if Susan or Adam had ever been here and if anybody had known them, that shouldn’t be too hard should it? He’d watched carefully when Jim had asked around Adam Walker’s neighborhood in order to get a better feel for the victim, his habits, flaws and faults. Applying that knowledge here shouldn’t be too difficult. He set off for the bar, a picture of Adam Walker and Susan Frasier each respectively in his pocket to ask questions. The band would be his second line of inquiry.

The place was a booming madhouse and within minutes Blair was grateful that Jim hadn’t been able to make it. The big man would never have managed with his senses. That plus the smoke and the thick, cloying mask of perfume and aftershave from everyone around him, even Blair was having trouble breathing at times. Eventually he reached the bar and ordered one beer, something on tap. He wasn’t picky; he just wanted to wash the stale air out of his system. Taking a swift swig of the beer, he plucked the sleeve of the bartender and asked him if he had ever seen the two people in the pictures.

“What are you, cop?” asked the bartender. Blair grinned.

“Do I look like a cop, man?” He thought for a moment, not wanting to spook the guy, but not wanting to look any less credible than he would if he told the guy he was an anthropologist. “The girl’s my sister, and I was told she used to hang out here and meet this guy in the chair.”

The bartender must have bought it because he looked a bit more seriously at the pictures. “The girl, yeah I’ve seen her around. Always got a vodka martini and sat at the end of the bar to watch the band play. I haven’t seen her in days though… Hey, isn’t she that girl on the news that got strangled?”

Blair waved the man away as he pulled off from the bar and made his way towards the band that was just setting up. The doors were bolted and he had a good three hours before they would open again. Plenty of time to sit back, relax and enjoy some decent music. Watching the four members gear up, he could tell that one of them was uncertain of his position on the stage. He must have been the new guy. After trying unsuccessfully for the third time to get his instrument plugged in and tuned, Blair sauntered over and offered to give him a hand.

“Used to be in a band in high school, man. Let me give you a hand.” Blair took the base guitar in hand, fitted the amp plug in its socket, and expertly tuned the instrument to pitch. The young man watched avidly and smiled when Blair handed it back to him.

“Man, that was cool, thanks. It’s only been the third night with me on stage, usually I was only in for practice sessions when Billy didn’t show up in time and Derek had to fill in on drums.” The young man settled himself and went through his scales with practiced ease. He knew how to work an axe that was for sure. Blair grinned with him as the guitar was put through its paces. When he was finished, the young man stuck his hand out to the grad student. “Max Williams, base.”

Blair smiled as he shook hands. “Blair Sandburg, Anthropologist.”

The young man blinked. “Man, that’s a long way from High School grunge band.”

Blair chuckled. “Yeah, I’m doing a paper on the Grunge bands in the cellars of Seattle and how they found their primal beats from the war chant of the Yanomamo headhunters.”

Again the slow blink. Blair chuckled inwardly. “No seriously, I was looking for a girl I once knew. I was told she hung out here to watch the band. I’m hoping you might have seen her?”

Max stared at the picture for a moment. “Nah, man I don’t recognize her, but then I’m usually back stage. Wait till we are done with the first set and we can ask the others.”

Blair nodded his understanding. “Sure and I’ll buy you guys the first round, okay?”

Max grinned. “Works fine, man! Just sit back and enjoy the show.”

And enjoy he did. Blair listened to the group go through four songs before they called for a break. They had a comfortable feel. You could tell that Max wasn’t the odd man out, he had just finally been promoted. As the four men tromped down the stairs from the stage to the main dance area, Blair called for a round of beer to be brought over. The four joined him and he congratulated them on their work.

“You guys sure do know how to make music.” He praised. They had the good grace to blush. One of them reached out his hand. “Peter Winsome. Max here says you were looking for some girl?”

Blair nodded as he shook the offered hand, then pulled out the pictures. “This is her, Susie. And this is the guy she was supposed to be seeing…”

Peter glanced over Adam Walker for a moment, gazed at Susan Frasier and shook his head. “Sorry man, don’t know her. Or him, for that matter.”

One of the others, a heavy set black man who banged the drums now, pointed to Adam’s picture. “Yeah, but him I know. Billy did drugs, bought some from this guy just before he disappeared. Same night they say he died, in fact.”

Blair felt the need to quell his excitement. The bartender had seen Susan and now Billy’s fellow band member had seen Adam… There was a connection! On the outside, he affected an air of calm. “Thanks for that, man. I know Susie wouldn’t do that sort of shit. Wasn’t her scene, you know?”

All four nodded in agreement, downed their beers and headed back to the stage, tossing back thanks for the drinks and encouragement for Blair finding his missing friend. As they began their second set, Blair glanced at his watch and noted that the time was about midnight. Another hour and he would be able to head to the station and tell Jim the good news!

He ordered a tall glass of water and began to down it to sober himself up enough to drive. This information could not wait until he was in a clear mind. And he had reached his two drink limit. Now he just had to hang out until they unbolted the doors and he could bolt for his car.

o-O-o

Blair was on cloud nine as he strolled into the station and rode the elevator up to the 8th floor. He had gone into Club Doom and questioned friends of the late Billy Bright, and had come up with answers that made sense! He couldn’t wait to tell Jim, although… the man was going to be pissed, no question about that. He’d been fairly insistent about the danger but, Blair was pretty sure he could come out of this with his skin intact. All he had to do was keep calm and act like the respectable specialist slash consultant that he was supposed to be.

He was reaching for the Captain’s officer door when he heard the first warning growl of Wolf. He checked his step quickly, Wolf was right, mustn’t be rude. He knocked once, listened for acknowledgement, and then walked in a bit more calmly.

“Captain, Jim! I think I may have this—“

Blair stuttered to a halt as the most terrifying feeling washed over him. His entire being felt as if it were on fire. His heart jumped in time with the drums thudding through his skull. The rattles of shekere sounded like rattle snakes under his feet. Glancing to his right, Blair saw Jim… and someone sitting to *his* right, an unknown, a stranger…

Wolf growled as Panther hissed and snarled. Blair shuddered slightly, his heart nearly in his throat. Jim was on his feet in an instant, one hand grasping Blair’s elbow. “Chief, are you all right? Where have you been?”

Blair blinked. Gazing just past Jim’s left shoulder, Blair thought he saw a large spider climbing along Simon’s book case, weaving in and out of the figurine collection he displayed. His mind stuttered as his mouth remained shut tight as a steel trap. Jim’s worried eyes flashed before his and he returned his focus to his friend. There was danger here, total danger. He couldn’t stay, he had to leave, had to take Jim and go.

Jim shook him lightly, his eyes trying to catch Blair’s and gain his attention. “Sandburg, what’s wrong?” he asked once more. The concern in his voice had just the right note, the correct tone to snap Blair back to the present. Blair blinked and focused on Jim again, his eyes bright and his face flushed.

“Um… uh… I’m okay, I just… I’ll be right back.” Quickly he turned and left the office. He didn’t stop until he was in the bathroom and hiding in the furthest stall, his legs drawn up onto the toilet seat and his shoulders hunched. His breath stuttered as he attempted to bring his heart back under control. His hands clasped just below his knees as he struggled for control.

That was bad, very bad. That was like… wicked weird… He hadn’t had a reaction like that since… hell, EVER. Last time he had felt like that was New Orleans one early spring when he had come to visit after Mardi Gras. The old wise woman he had chatted with had charms that warded off evil. He had even attended a Vodun Ritual just before he left. It had been the singular scariest moment in his young life.

Until tonight.

“Ohmanohmanohmanohman…” Blair was muttering so quickly, his breathing was becoming something too hard to control. He felt the shortness of breath, the tightening of his chest. He could see the graying out at the edge of his vision. He was losing it big time.

He didn’t know when Jim had come into the men’s room after him. He had no clue how long the big man had stroked his hair, and held his body cradled in the protection of his arms and chest. He just knew that one minute he was suffering from one mother of a panic attack and the next he was feeling the safety and security of his Sentinel’s arms. His eyes were closed but his ears were wide open and he could hear the soothing words from his friend, talking him back from the edge.

“Everything is all right, Blair. Deep breaths… that’s right. In through the nose, out through the mouth, you know this stuff.” Jim’s continued instructions served to remind Blair of where he was, who he was with and… well this was interesting. He was sitting in Jim’s lap with Jim’s arms wrapped around him and his own hands wrapped up in Jim’s shirt. Not that he minded, or anything, but he was pretty sure that this would count as embarrassing if it got out in the station. He made a visible effort to calm down enough to slide out of Jim’s arms.

Jim seemed a little reluctant to release Blair, but it washed away quickly and Blair was soon sitting on the floor alone, Jim kneeling right in front of him. “You okay now, Chief?”

Blair nodded, a little uncertainly, but eventually he began to feel steady enough to stand and splash some cold water on his face. Jim handed him a paper towel and he nodded his thanks before drying the water so he could see. “Sorry Jim, I… I don’t know what happened there.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed and his face pinched in concern. “Looked like you saw a ghost,” he explained. Blair thought it over and decided that he was not about to tell Jim the truth on this one. He had seen something, but it was not a ghost. He moved to leave the room, his hand pulling the handle of the door and his feet taking him right into Simon’s muscular chest.

“Sandburg, you okay?” asked the big man. Blair forced himself to chuckle lightly as he sidestepped the Captain and aimed his feet for the elevator. Jim followed but seemed intent on stopping Blair, not leaving with him. Blair glanced back at Simon.

“I’m okay, Captain. Just a little tired.” Blair obfuscated as much as he could, hoping that Jim wouldn’t call him on it here. The curious humming and rattling was coming towards him again, originating from Simon’s office. Oh no, that was *not* good. “I think I’ll just head on home. I’ll see you both later.”

He was nearly to the elevator, the doors yawning open as if they had simply been awaiting his presence. Jim grasped his arm just above the elbow. “Chief, you said you had something figured out…”

Shit! Blair gazed deeply into Jim’s eyes. He fought for control of his heart and breathing. He could not go back into that room, just couldn’t! “Jim, at home, okay? Please?”

Jim stared hard at Blair for what seemed like hours, but was really only a minute or two. The intensity of those eyes on his gave him trouble holding still as he unconsciously wanted to fidget all over the place. Whatever Jim was looking for, he must have found it, because after a short time of staring at Blair, a clearly agitated and uncomfortable Blair, had Jim nodding and holding the elevator doors open.

“I’ll be right behind you, go straight home,” ordered the Sentinel. Blair nodded and stepped into the elevator. As an afterthought he snapped his fingers at Jim.

“Get the files.” He said. Jim nodded and the doors closed, taking the fear and uncertainty with it.

o-O-o

Blair was still pacing the loft when Jim made it through the door some 20 minutes later. The young man was on him like a shot, taking the file and spreading it out on the kitchen table. Jim put his coat away, walked over to Blair and took off his neglected coat and hung it up as well. Snagging a beer from the fridge, Jim came to the table to see what had Blair excited.

“Right, it’s you and me now, Chief. You want to explain to me what that episode at the station was all about?” asked the big man. Blair watched his friend for a moment, judging just what he could to the Sentinel and be believed.

“Jim, what would you say if I told you I… no, you know what? It’s too early in our relationship to explain that.” Blair sighed as he sat heavily in the nearest chair. Jim sat across from him and gazed back at him.

“This is something I wouldn’t understand because I’m not college educated? Or because it is something out of your upbringing?” Jim asked to clarify. Blair shook his head once.

“Man I know you went to college, so don’t even pull that dumb jock shit on me. This is beyond that anyway. If I brought it up to any of my professors they would laugh their asses off.” Blair pulled the pictures around to show Jim the faces. “Ask me again some other time about that episode, I’ll be glad to tell you. But I didn’t want to blurt out what I suspect is going on with the killer while having a complete stranger in the room.”

While this was technically correct, it was enough obfuscation for Blair not to be lying to Jim. The Sentinel seemed to take it and carried on. He pointed at the pictures. Blair grinned again and began to launch into the explanation he had been about to give Jim and Simon in the office.

“So I went to Club Doom—“ oops… Blair winced as Jim’s face clouded up in anger.

“Damnit, Blair I told you to wait for me!” Jim’s yell was more growl than bark and Blair simple rolled his eyes.

“Jim, they were leaving for Portland today, it was either I go alone or we miss some valuable information. Now shut up and listen.” Blair waited until the Sentinel had complied with his wishes, and then started again. “It’s like I said before, this guy is taking on the persona of his victims for two and three months after their death.”

“And we know this how?” Jim asked soberly.

Blair pointed out the pictures one at a time, first Billy Bright, and then Adam Walker. “I just had a talk with Billy Bright's band over at Club Doom. And it turns out that the night Billy was killed he bought some dope from a guy in a wheelchair.”

Jim gazed at the pictures, “Adam Walker.”

“Got it in one,” cheered Blair. “Only according to the report, Adam had been dead for almost three weeks.”

“So, explain this to me, Einstein. Why take on the I.D. of a person in a wheelchair?” challenged Jim. Blair grinned.

“Blends in, doesn’t get noticed. My guess is that not only is Adam the first victim we found, he’s the first death this character has affected. So he didn’t want to get started with anything too heavy. But then, you see, Billy Bright is much more interesting, he’s in a band, he’s more of a challenge.”

Jim scanned the pictures and the witness statement on Billy Bright and Adam Walker. “So, our guy—“

“Unsub,” interrupted Blair. Jim glared, but seeing the need to keep everyone in their place, shrugged and carried on.

“Our Unsub picks out someone who is not unusual, can blend in, and uses this persona to climb higher?”

Blair smiled that mega-watt grin of his. “Exactly! See, Billy was more of a challenge. He was in the band, a band that required that drum player to be as much in the lime-light as the rest of its members. I watched them last night, man. Billy would have to be seen by everyone.”

“So from there, he continues to play as Billy until what, he passes Susan Frasier?”

“Actually, as _*Billy*_ he didn’t play much. As soon as he had a chance, he jumped to the next body. He found Susan Frasier in the club when the band played. She used to watch the band all the time, and Billy in particular. The Unsub must have seen her as quite the challenge.” Blair finished smugly. Jim nodded as he began to understand what Blair was saying.

“From male to female. Yeah that could be a challenge. And she’s much more upbeat.” Jim said as he leafed through the file. “But why?”

Not why her, not why now. Blair could read that question like a book. He meant ‘Why is this person killing and stealing the identities in the first place’? Blair sat back in his chair, his arms across his chest. “In psychology they would call it a form of psychic ingestion. Like when the Aztec warriors used to eat the heart of their enemies because they would believe it would enhance their prowess in war.”

Jim nodded, “Yeah ok, that I can understand. So what do we have to worry about now? Where do we look for answers? Suspects?”

“Jim, we have to fall back on my original profile, only we need to add to it. This Unsub is looking for victims who are bigger and brighter than the last.” Blair broke off as the phone rang. Jim went to answer it, spoke to Simon for a minute, and then hung up again.

“That was Simon. We have ourselves another prowler. This time at the Maritime Museum. It's a female. She fits the description of our killer.” Jim grabbed his coat and gun. Blair stood, walking over to the door.

“Be careful, man. I don’t like this. Something isn’t right.”

Jim reached up and squeezed Blair’s shoulder once. “I’ll do that, Chief. Lock the door behind me.”

And then he was gone.

o-O-o

The next morning found Blair walking with Jim into the station, Jim’s face a stoic mask of frustration. The man he had apprehended at the museum was not the man they were searching for. He had been paid off. Blair glanced ahead to catch sight of Don Hass marching up the sidewalk towards them. This was going to be a bad scene.

“Detective Ellison, any statement on that transvestite you apprehended last night? Come on, you guys. All we want is a little confirmation!” Hass pestered like a little Chihuahua on steroids. Jim tried to gently push him back. Finally he stopped and faced the reporter.

“Okay. Since you seem to know more about this investigation than we do, I got a tip for you, Don.” Jim pulled in closer, grabbing the microphone and growling into it, “You're under suspicion for three murders. How do you feel about that?”

Hass fumed as he snatched the microphone back. Blair stepped in between them a moment and snarled at the annoying little distraction. “Look, if you stopped hounding us about stuff you already know, and by the way just how do you know all this? I know you don’t have to reveal your source or anything, but if you stopped nitpicking and stayed out of the way, we might be able to get our job done.”

Jim grabbed Blair’s jacket and steered him back towards the station. “Come on Chief, he ain’t worth it.”

Up in Simon’s office, Blair paced the wall near the window, his nerves on edge. He knew something was wrong, he just wasn’t seeing it. Jim lounged in one of the chairs at the conference table, Simon sat in another. They were going over what had happened the night before.

“Wayne Underwood, career junkie.” Jim tapped the file in his hands as he read. “He's been up a dozen times or so for using. Claims he was paid to stalk that museum worker by some plain-looking lady.”

“Susan Frasier,” muttered Blair distractedly. “Or rather the Unsub… the killer is taunting us.”

Simon sighed. “So, there's no chance that this guy is our killer?”

Jim shook his head, his eyes watching Blair warily. Blair chose to ignore him and continued to pace nervously. Jim shifted his attention back to answer the Captain. None. Underwood was in a detox tank the night that Susan Frasier died.”

Blair sighed as Simon rubbed his eyes wearily. This was getting them nowhere fast again. But Jim caught their attention yet again. “Now take a look at these, Simon.” He pushed the file towards Simon. “Forensics pulled them from Susan Frasier's Jaguar and we've got a match.”

Blair finally stopped pacing and sat in the chair directly across from Jim, his words running a mile a minute. “Yeah, severe head case. Escaped a California mental institution three months ago. His name's David Lash… Three months, Simon, er… Captain.”

Simon glared at Blair a moment, but obviously decided to let the slip get past. “Now that's the same time Adam Walker was killed.”

Blair nodded while Jim continued to fill his Captain in. “I've subpoenaed the patient's file from Watsonville.”

Blair leapt to his feet again and began to pace. Simon looked from Jim to Blair and back again. “What’s his problem?”

Jim sighed. “He’s been like that since earlier this morning when he came back from Club Doom. If it weren’t for the fact that I know he doesn’t do them, I’d say he was hopped up on speed.” Simon chuckled evilly as Blair turned to glare at the detective.

“Ha, ha, very funny. There is something I’m not getting here, and it’s bugging the hell out of me.” Jim stood and headed for the door and Blair fairly leaped over the conference table to his side. “Where are you going?”

Jim put out a hand to rest on Blair’s shoulder. “I’m headed down to forensics; Carolyn said she had the toxicology reports back.”

Blair took a breath, unsure as to why it was important to know where his friend was, only knowing that something was off. Eventually he shoved his insecure feelings onto the back burner and moved to study the files on the table again. He would hear the fax machine clearly enough from there and he really needed to occupy his mind. Idly he thought about going out into the bullpen and tackling the mountain of paperwork on Jim's desk just to get his mind working on something else, but decided against it. For some reason the idea made him feel horribly exposed.

That’s of course when the vision hit.

 _*||A overwhelming feeling of fear encompasses him, along with a sensation of being watched, hunted. He hears his own voice saying “Just relax. Relax. Oh, man, just calm down.” In the same tone he always uses to cajole. Himself or others it never mattered._

 _Then an unnatural and dizzying visual sweep of the loft. It was enough to give him vertigo. A noise above that doesn’t belong. Blair’s new and unimproved lens sweeps up to show there is someone there, walking along the skylights above the kitchen. The fear, which had subsided a bit, rushes back. The emotional barrage keeps getting stronger and stronger until it feels transmuted into something physical. The loft door bursts open and Blair instinctively yells, “Jim!”||*_

“Sandburg!” Blair nearly fell out of his chair at the bark from Simon. The big man leaned in close, obviously attempting to gain Blair’s attention. “What the hell is wrong with you?”

Blair blinked owlishly for a moment, finally focusing on Simon’s angry glare. “What? I was daydreaming.”

“More like day-maring. You seemed agitated even more than usual and you yelled.” Simon moved away to allow Blair space again. Blair frowned. Yelled? Oh shit! He called out Jim’s name. That was not good, if the Captain didn’t think him a kook before, he had ample evidence now.

Re-adjusting his seat, Blair noted the sound of drums in his head. He flicked his gaze out the window and watched the blonde man, Dr. Bates, walk by the window. He shook his head once. No, he wasn’t imagining things. He really was hearing drums.

Simon let one last lingering and doubt filled look rest on Blair as he made his way to the door. "Listen, why don't you stay in here and rest till Jim comes back up - I'll fill in Dr. Bates with what we have uncovered so far."

Blair gave the large man a weak smile, but didn't say anything. Simon shrugged and walked out to the bullpen where he started talking to the seemingly innocuous man in jeans and a button up shirt. The Doctor's blonde hair was pulled back in a short ponytail and his small glass frames perched on his hawk like nose. Nothing really noteworthy about the man, but Blair really felt something was off with him.

The last time Blair had seen him, he was sitting in the chair next to Jim, his face registering surprise when Blair marched in. Blair had been uncomfortable in his presence then, now he was positively creeped out by him. The way the man kept glancing over at Blair in the window, it was as if he wanted so badly to talk to Blair, but for some reason he just... he couldn’t.

Suddenly the Doctor’s head snapped up, his eyes fastening on Simon for a brief moment, his hands fidgeting as he listened to Simon’s words. Then he was nodding and pointing in the direction of the hallway. Simon nodded and waved him off, then headed back into the office. Blair stared after the rapidly retreating man, watched him speak to Jim a moment as the detective passed him in the hallway.

Blair turned around and began to pace the wall again, his eyes on the doors to the office. Something was wrong, something was very wrong. He flicked a glance at Simon as the Captain walked into his office. “Was that him? Bates, I mean?”

Simon nodded. “Yeah, he said he had to go to the men’s room, he’d be with us in a moment.”

Jim walked in and noticed Blair pacing again. He came to stand in front of Blair, laying hands on his shoulders and halting his frantic pacing. “Chief, tell me what’s wrong?”

“I dunno, Jim,” muttered Blair, his eyes darting to the doorway. “That Bates guy… something’s off about him… I dunno, I… I… shit!”

The fax machine next to Simon’s desk chimed to let the three men know that a fax was on its way in. Blair watched the papers flow out of it neatly. Jim walked over and began reading the sheets as soon as Simon handed them off. Simon read aloud for a moment.

 _“*Patient exhibits symptoms of multiple dissociative disorder. His primary identity is passive, extremely isolated, depressed. Alternate identities, however, are controlling and aggressive often absorbed from people in his proximity occurring in sudden shifts and for periods of short duration.*_ I don't know, Jim. Sandburg’s profile and Bates’ suggestions were right on with Lash's diagnosis. It's all right here in his file.”

"Who's his doctor?" Blair asked. "Maybe we can talk to them and get them to clarify some things for us."

Jim reached the last page of notes and cursed loudly, “What the hell is this? The diagnosis is signed _*Dr. Bates.*_ ”

Blair’s pacing halted, and he swayed unevenly on his feet. _*Oh gods, oh gods, no… nononono!*_

“Bates was Lash's psychiatrist?” Simon asked incredulously.

Jim snarled, “He's treating the son of a bitch.”

Blair locked eyes with Jim, his nerves shot to hell and back. “It’s worse than that, Jim. I know it is. Tell us the rest, man.”

Jim pulled the last page from the fax machine and sucked in a deep breath. “Our Dr. Bates is David Lash.”

“Ah, Christ!” Simon reached forward and snapped on the PA system, he fairly yelled into the mic. “This is Captain Banks. We have an emergency. Seal all the exits now!”

Jim and Blair bolted from the office, their destination, the men’s room. Slamming into the tiled room, Jim checked the stalls, coming up with jeans and a button up shirt, a blond wig and glasses. Blair was right behind him and stopped when he caught sight of the mirror. “Jim. Take a look at this.”

Jim followed Blair’s gaze to look at the mirror. Blair sighed. “Oh man.”

Scrawled across the glass in red lipstick were the words _*Who am I now?*_ Jim grabbed Blair’s arm. “Let’s go.”

They came out of the bathroom, Jim headed for the stairs and Blair looking for Simon. Simon called after the retreating detective. “Jim!”

“He’s taking the stairs Simon, Lash has shed his disguise.” Blair grabbed the sleeve of the big Captain and hustled him towards the elevator. They reached the ground floor about the same time as Jim, and watched as he raced out the main lobby doors. Unfortunately, Lash was gone.

o-O-o

Blair watched the news report on the television screen, his hands still shaking from the adrenaline rush of chasing after Lash. Jim, Carolyn and Simon sat around the table in various poses, their posture stiff and uncompromising. They had been played, even Blair, all played by a serial killer.

 _*”Cascade's notorious serial killer has claimed a fourth victim -- F.B.I. forensic psychiatrist Dr. Anthony Bates. Dr. Bates, an expert on serial killers, was in town to assist the lead investigator in the case Detective James Ellison. Incredibly, while Dr. Bates lay decomposing in a bathtub for three days, the killer was actually masquerading as the expert conferring with the very officers who were supposedly pursuing him. Makes you wonder who's minding the store. Don Hass, KCDE News, live.”*_

Simon turned off the set. Jim rubbed his forehead to stave off the headache that was moving in. Blair reached out strong fingers to massage the tension from Jim’s neck. Jim glanced up, his eyes haunted. “He was taunting us. Sitting right there, daring us to catch him the whole time, giving time lines.”

Carolyn leaned over the table. “Hang on a second. We only just established Bates' time in the bathtub.”

Blair canted his head to the side, letting Jim’s neck go, and asked,”We're the only ones who know?”

Carolyn nodded as Simon’s eyes closed. The light was dawning and it was bright. “Lash was feeding the information to Hass himself.”

Jim growled as he stood abruptly. “There’s your leak,” he snarled as he left. Blair paused a moment and looked to Simon and Carolyn.

“He’s not done, we know this. But now we have a direction, we can’t stop. He hasn’t won yet.” And then the Shaman was gone.

o-O-o

The interrogation of David Lash’s father was… enlightening. The clues to the state of David’s mind were disturbing. In the end, Blair felt more uncomfortable than before. But there were no leads.

Carolyn’s analysis of the water in the victim’s lungs showed that the victims were killed away from their home and brought back later. But she couldn’t tell yet where the water came from. Jim went and searched Susan Frasier’s home yet again, but what he found Blair didn’t know as Blair had gone back to school. He had been feeling useless around the station and knew he had more than enough to do at school with a full day of testing and grading still to deal with.

Jim took advantage of his defection to go and hit the gym, saying he needed to release some stress. Blair couldn’t blame him, he wished he had a more proactive way of dealing with things sometimes too, but as it was he was really going to rack up the meditation hours when he had a chance. But until then his nerves were on edge and he was a wreck. Exhausted and hungry, but he didn’t think he would be able to sleep or eat.

Then on his way home he felt again the unmistakable tingle of electricity skating across his nerves, a feeling he had been having off and on all afternoon and night. Thinking that maybe he was being followed he took the long way home and kept checking in his rearview mirror. Twice he had seen a non-descript car weaving in and out of traffic. _*I got a bad feeling about this.*_ he thought as he turned onto Prospect. He got a flash of the vision he had earlier in Simon’s office and his blood turned to ice as he caught sight of what could have been his double.

His stomach muscles clenched into a solid mass as one thought raced through his brain.

 _*Oh god, I’m next!*_

He turned and raced for the apartments, reaching the third floor in record time and burst in the front door. He turned around and promptly locked it before leaning against and fighting for control of his breath. He was out of time, he knew it somehow. He looked around and nearly jumped out of his skin when he heard the sound on the rooftop and saw the shadow crossing the skylights. Again haunting snippets of the vision from Simon’s office came to him. He knew that had been a warning, he just hadn’t known how soon they had meant it for.

Glancing around the loft, he saw again the crazy double image of the whirlwind tour from the vision and knew what he had to do. He rushed around, closing windows, shutting doors and pulling shades automatically. Everything was locked and secure as he could make it, but his heart was still tripping and beating madly. His own voice echoed in his mind, “Just relax. Relax. Oh, man, just calm down.” It was still good advice, he forced himself to slow his breathing.

He felt the hairs on the back of his neck begin to stand on end as the silence drew its self out. “Have to tell him, have to warn him…” Blair muttered as he grabbed a pen that hung on the hook next to a message pad for the phone. He wrote three words, _*See, Smell, Taste*_ , on the pad with one hand as the other hand snatched up the phone receiver and he dialed the number for Jim’s cell phone. No answer after four rings. He hung up and dialed the pager, leaving the home number and a 911 alert.

Eyeing the front door Blair purposefully drew on the memories of the vision again. He was a sitting duck down here, he needed to level the playing field so to speak. Jim’s bedroom, that’s where he needed to be. From there he could see the whole loft and there had to be something he could use as a half-decent weapon up there. Hurrying to his destination, he quickly detoured to kill the main power with the switchbox under the stairs, plunging the main room into darkness broken only by intermittent light let in via the skylights.

Unerringly even in the darkness, he made his way to Jim’s room where he found a lamp that would make an admirable first weapon. Now he was crouched by the railing watching through the openings as the first loud thud sounded. An ominous cracking of wood followed, then another thud and the door to the loft slammed open. What entered didn’t appear human at first, not to Blair’s eyes anyway.

With his adrenaline racing he was suddenly blessed with Shaman Sight and could almost see the evil as it flowed in the opening. Blair gazed in horror at the huge-assed spider that crept into the room. Wolf nudged Blair with his nose and Blair blinked, looking again at the figure slipping through the shadows. He could see that it was Lash dressed in his ‘Blair’ clothes, but he was still shivering with reaction. He had no idea what exactly it was that he had seen before. His mind supplied _*spirit animal*_ and he tripped back over to normal sight, aided only by the scant moonlight. He heard the sound of light switches being flicked in an attempt to gain light.

He judged his assailant to be in the vicinity of his room and so he moved to cautiously make his way down the stairs. The third step down squeaked and all movement stopped, his, the unknown attacker, the spirit guides. Blair mentally cursed his fate as he leapt from the stairs, only to be tackled from behind. He struck out quickly, first with his feet and then with the lamp he still clutched in his right hand. He dealt his foe a blow to the shoulder, but unfortunately it was not strong enough to stop them.

Jerking out from the grasping hands, Blair tripped when one hand snuck out and grasped his ankle, he went down again, only to roll to the side and jump back up. During the struggle, his enemy got between himself and the front door. He knew he had no time to make for one of the back entrances; he had to go out through the man before him. A flash of moonlight showed Blair the face of David Lash, only with long, curly brown hair so like his own. It was as he had suspected, he was Lash’s next victim. But only if he was caught.

He reached out a hand and swept the fruit bowl from the counter next to him into Lash’s face. Lash blocked the bowl with one hand before attempting to advance on Blair. Blair ducked and raced to the living area. Lash leapt forward and they tumble crashed together into the couch, rolling around the floor and tossing anything they could get their hands on into the other’s face.

Suddenly, Lash rolled over on top of Blair, reared back and smashed a fist into his face, stunning him. The last thought that raced through his mind as he felt the stick of a needle in his neck was to his spirit guides.

 _*Help Jim, he’s going to need you. Help him find me.*_

o-O-o

At some point, Blair woke up to darkness. All around him he could still see Moonlight so he knew it was night, but how long he had been held was still a mystery to him. He struggled to move and found his hands and feet shackled with thick chains, and his mouth was gagged. He was helpless and he knew it. Sleep soon claimed him again and he left with it.

o-O-o

When Blair woke next, it was to the sight of a leering David Lash looming over him. He struggled to move, finding himself in much the same situation as before, only this time he was sitting in a chair and surrounded by candles and other oddities. And suddenly he knew where he was. He remembered this vision quite well. The candles, the psycho trying to become him, Blair Sandburg. He remembered the fear and the distress he had felt when he was being held by this serial killer, this madman.

But this time, instead of fear, all Blair felt was rage. Rage at destiny and fate. Rage at insecurity and despondence. Rage at David Lash for the people he hurt and would have continued to hurt. All that rage filtered down into one small ball of pain in the pit of his stomach and he shoved it there to heat and fire his blood. As soon as he could get Lash to loosen his gag, he was going to have his last say with the man.

As Blair attempted to get a better look at his surroundings, he was plagued with Déjà vu. From the visions, he sensed a sort of detachment as he watched over himself and Lash. He wondered vaguely if all visions were like this when one was about to die. A snort from his right and he could almost feel the hot breath of Panther on his hand. Damn the cat, he was supposed to be with Jim!

But instead, the cat sat next to the dentist chair that Blair was strapped in, a silent source of strength reminding Blair that he was not alone. _*Remind me to find some way to reward you later*_ Blair mentally muttered. A rumbling purr from the feline was his only answer.

“I'd like you to meet my friends,” called Lash as he walked out of the shadows. Blair noted the presence of many spiders around the room and hanging in the web like artistic representations of people. “I only have four of them now, but there will be more. You know, friends are, like really easy to make, dude.”

Blair rolled his eyes for a moment at the hideously awful rendition of his speech mannerisms. Lash smiled as he pointed out the first web, the spiders… tarantulas… scurrying away from his touch as he swung the chair that hung from the ceiling. “There's, uh... Adam Walker. He was really easy. He didn't struggle at all. But I guess it's 'cause he was really stoned.”

Lash chuckled as he moved on to the next web, this one with pictures and clothing of yet another of Lash’s victims. He picked up a pair of drum sticks from amongst the webbing before continuing. “And then there's... Billy Bright. Bright...he was not. But I...overlooked that because, man...” He turned and tapped the sides of the dentist chair with the sticks. “'Cause he had talent.”

Blair sighed as Lash turned in a flourish to the third webbed entity. “Oh...then there was sweet Susan. She had really good taste in cars, but that hair, those clothes? I mean, what was the girl thinking?”

Blair grunted when he saw the fourth webbing, the good Doctor Bates. “You know... I think my finest hour... was getting up into your partner's face. But now... it's time for hairy Blairy who is sooo smart.”

If there was one thing that Blair detested, it was egotistical madmen. He hadn’t been too excited about Kincaid, he sure wasn’t intimidated by this trumped up Mama’s boy. He growled low in his throat, catching Lashes attention and glaring at him meaningfully. If this guy wanted to be Blair Sandburg, he had another think coming.

Lash turned to his mirror, the candles flickering and causing an unearthly glow to the room. Blair glanced at Panther, who was pacing the wall near the stairs. Blair looked at the second to last step and noticed that it was loose. Anyone stepping on that step would be thrown horribly off balance. It was something he needed to remember, or else the Panther wouldn’t have shown him. _*Right, watch that step… I’ll remember.*_ Blair replied mentally. Panther nodded his great head knowingly and resumed his vigil. This night was far from over, but by the agitation that Panther was showing, it was going to end soon.

“Yeah, this is going to really be fun.” Lashes words had the effect of a cold shower on Blair’s emotions. He wanted very much to wring the man’s neck and be done with it. “You have a wicked sense of humor. You know... Kind of hip... With a touch of the nerd. All in all, man... Quite a piece of work.”

 _*Right, that’s enough of that.*_ thought Blair as he snarled behind the gag. He tried to speak to Lash from around the knotted yellow sash. “What are you doing?”

Lash stopped momentarily, taking a step towards Blair. “What?”

Blair tried again. “What are you doing?” It came out more consonants than vowels and sounded more like a growl than proper words. Lash walked up to him and began to tug the sash out of Blair’s mouth.

“I can't hear you. I don't understand. I need to hear your voice more anyway.” Lash succeeded in removing the gag, leaving Blair to stretch his aching jaw and spit out threads. For a moment, Blair just sat there, glowering at Lash. In any other situation, Blair would scream his head off. But he didn’t for two reasons. Number one, he was in an abandoned building, most likely near the warehouse district. And he knew that there was no chance of reaching anyone that way. And number two, Blair wasn’t ready to start the end of the show until he had confirmation from Panther that Jim was nearby. In the mean time, Blair decided he would play a few mind games with good old Davey.

“I bet Susan was quite a challenge for you. All that work to appear to walk and talk and look like a woman… really good.” Blair spoke each word carefully, watching his opponent to gauge his effectiveness. Lash smiled as he turned back to the Susan web.

“Yes, she was… quite the challenge… But then you were at the funeral… you saw me, and… you knew it was me. I had to leave before I got a good look in the casket.” Lash brushed a finger along the jaw line of the mannequin he used to represent Susan Frasier.

“Yeah, about that… how did you survive the jump into the water? You could have lost your ankles that way.” Blair continued keeping his voice neutral, uninteresting. And without the usual speech patterns he was known for. His voice dropped an octave as he rumbled on. “And playing drums? In a grunge band? That was really creative of you.”

Lash moved over to the Billy web and twirled once. “Yeah, he was really cool, you know?” Canting his head to the side as he looked at Blair, he frowned suddenly. “What happened to your voice? You changed it. What are you doing?”

What Blair was doing, was using his lecture voice. A nifty disguise he had affected over the years as a TA at the university. Unlike ‘Blair Sandburg’, neo-hippy-flower-child, this was ‘Blair Sandburg’, don’t-mess-with-me-I’ll-kick-your-ass. He reserved this voice for delinquent jocks in the back row with all the pithy little attitude slams to his character before he handed them the papers for a pop-quiz.

“I don’t have a clue what you are implying, Davey. This is how I always talk.” Blair replied, one brow arched up slightly. His Mr. Spock impression merely irritated Lash, who walked over to him and grabbed his lapels roughly, pulling him tightly against his bonds.

“No, no, this isn’t how you talk when you’re with Jim. This isn’t the voice on the phone message. This isn’t you, this is… it’s something else.” Lash slapped Blair’s face lightly. Blair blinked back at him, his breathing calm and relaxed. He didn’t know when exactly he had begun his meditation breathing. For some inexplicably reason, he was feeling no fear.

Lash snarled at him. “You think you can hide behind some sort of disguise. I control the disguise, not you!”

“Right, you’re in control. Just like you were in control with Homer, eh? Yeah I know about Homer… and your brother. Why Davey? Why’d you kill your brother?” Blair’s voice dropped to a softer register, his expression sad, his eyes watchful. Panther stood by the stairs, his hackles raised. Blair saw the shift in the great cat and knew that Jim was near. He decided that now was the time to up the ante. “You want to know why your father hated you, Davey? He said you were a Devil and he was glad to be rid of you. He hoped your mother would kill you.”

“Shut up!” yelled lash. Blair closed his eyes and forced himself to remain calm. He opened them again to see Lash pacing and ranting. “I can be you! I can be...”

“You can never be me! Only I can be me. I’ll prove it, when's my birthday? Huh? What was the name of my first girlfriend? How old was I when I broke my arm falling out of Mrs. Danbush's tree?” Blair snapped and snarled his control was almost shot. He managed to pull it back as Lash ranted and raved back at him.

“I can be you! I am you! I am Blair Sandburg! You… you’re dead! DEAD! Just like Homer, just like Jimmy!” Lash moved swiftly to one of the dressers against the wall and snatched up a vial of the poison he used to drug his other victims. Blair had read the report; he knew what was in it. He had to keep it out of his mouth if he could. Yelling seemed to be about the only thing he could do now. He had to throw Lash off balance for just a little longer. Lash turned back to Blair and muttered to himself as he poured the mixture in a medicine dose spoon. “You just relax. We're going to see the ducks and then you're going to have a nice-- you're going to have... have a nice bath. Are you ready to die? 'Cause...I'm ready.”

“Yeah, I bet you’re ready,” snarled Blair. “Just like your daddy was ready for you to die and leave them in peace. But you couldn’t do it, you couldn’t vanish. You couldn’t be normal. You had to be special. You had to try and be Jimmy. Only it didn’t work. Maybe if you hadn’t smeared filth—“

“Shut up!”

“Why did you make mommy punish you? You know if you had just been a good little boy -- a good little Davey -- mama wouldn't have had to have scrubbed you in all those hot baths!” Blair knew he had struck the right chord as Lash rushed to straddle the chair, and force a finger into Blair’s mouth, attempting to make him open for the foul drug he was attempting to pour down his throat. Panther hissed and roared, and Blair could hear the howl of Wolf just outside the door.

As the drug reached Blair’s tongue, the door burst open and Jim came in. “Police! Freeze!”

Lash let go of Blair’s face. Blair grunted and Lash looked back in time to get a face full of the drug, in the eyes, nose and mouth as Blair spit it all back at him. Blair looked at Jim, feeling the drug beginning to work in seconds. Before his vocal chords could give out he yelled to Jim. “Jim! Second to last step is tricked!”

It wasn’t as strong as he would have liked, but it was all he could give before he began to seize up completely. He could hear and see, but he couldn’t turn his head. He saw Jim cross his vision at one point. He could hear yelling and a crash behind him. He could hear sounds of fighting. And then he heard the gun. One, two, three, four, five… and then silence. Blair tried to turn his head, he tried to make a sound. All that came from his mouth was a whimper. _*Oh gods, Jim… Jim, where are you man…*_

The silence was almost too hard to bare, and just as he was about to start crying, Jim’s face came into view. “Hey Chief, it’s all right. I’m here. I’m gonna get you out, okay?”

Blair blinked, his face tight with the strain not to cry. Jim was all right and he was going to get Blair out of his restraints. He felt so relieved. Once the Sentinel had released the shackles, he pulled Blair out of the chair and hoisted him up into a fireman’s carry and took him out of the warehouse to safety.

o-O-o

 _*November 21st – Well, that was an exciting six days… not! Okay, not that it wasn’t terrifying and gripping in turns, but it wasn’t something I am in any kind of hurry to repeat. God, when police work speeds up, it certainly puts the pedal to the metal – and I am not a speed freak by any means. Jesus, I am still shaking. Whether that’s more from adrenaline or fear I don’t know. At least neither of us was badly hurt. That at least was a blessing even if getting us both to go to the hospital was enough to make poor Simon want to gnaw that cigar of his in half.*_

 _*The check-ups at the hospital weren’t that bad either, Jim stayed with me during mine and I stayed with him during his. He wanted to make sure they checked everything he was worried about and I wanted to make sure my Sentinel was checked out thoroughly after being in that cesspit of a hideout. What? The guy was creepy and there was no way I was trusting anything he actually felt at home in as being safe. Even if all those spiders were on the spirit plane they still had to have dragged in a lot of bad karma.*_

 _*Thankfully nothing earth shattering was found. I just had to drink lots of fluids to counter the little bit of the drug I couldn’t help ingesting and Jim was found to have a totally unrelated large build up of ear-wax that he got treated. Good thing too. Man, that could so totally have caused him major issues later on if it had gotten impacted. But other than that nothing was showing up on the old medical radar for either of us. Well I was a bit shocky, but I think that is more than allowable – don’t you? I do have to admit the ear-wax thing made me think of how ‘normal’ health issues could impact (no pun intended) on Jim’s Sentinel health, and so I have now started a diary strictly dealing with medicines and treatments that Jim can and cannot deal with. I should have thought about it a long time ago, but better late than never huh?*_

 _*Oh and speaking of better late than never, guess who finally admitted the police were up to snuff in dealing with the problem after bashing them for so long? Yep, Hass finally got his head out of his ass. Now if I could only sleep as easy as he said everyone else in the city will be…*_

o-O-o

 _*||“I can be you! I am you! I am Blair Sandburg! You… you’re dead! DEAD! Just like Homer, just like Jimmy!”||*_

Blair’s eyes snapped open and he found himself staring up at the ceiling of his room, staring at where Jim would be sleeping. A noise from the stairs told him that his roommate was awake and making his way to the main floor. For a moment, Blair was afraid he had woken the man, and sat up to look out through the curtain. He shivered as the first wave of chill air hit his feet.

Jim slipped in through the curtain. “Hey, you okay?”

“Please tell me I didn’t wake you up, man.” Blair sighed and closed his eyes. A moment later, he felt the futon shift and the strong arm of his friend draped over his shoulders. “I’m so sorry, Jim. I don’t know why this is affecting me so much.”

Jim chuckled. “I would be more worried about you if you didn’t have a nightmare or two, you know? You aren’t the type to shut away all your emotions and feelings like someone else in the room.”

Blair flapped his arm into Jim’s stomach. “Stop it. You’re dissing my best friend. And that is just not cool.”

Jim stopped laughing and sat quietly, one arm still wrapped around Blair. For a moment Blair wondered if the man had zoned on something. But then he relaxed as Jim spoke quietly. “Am I? I keep dragging you into these dangerous situations. This one was close, Blair… too close.”

Blair nodded solemnly then turned to look Jim squarely in the eyes. “Yeah, sure it was close. But you made it there in time, didn’t you? I’m here, aren’t I?”

Jim smiled as he squeezed Blair tightly. “Yeah, I did. But you did an awesome job keeping him talking. I’m proud of you keeping your head together.”

“Check your humanity at the door, keep your head on straight… break down in silence when it’s all over. Right?” Blair quipped cheekily. Jim lifted his chin so that they sat staring at each other.

“It’s over now Blair… you can break down if you need to… I’m here.” Jim vowed solemnly. Blair watched his friend for a moment, gauging his sincerity. He felt wetness on his cheeks that he wasn’t expecting. He reached up a hand to wipe the wetness away, staring at his fingers in mute confusion. “He was going to kill me Jim.”

Once the words were out of his mouth, the pain came. The fear, the confusion, the anger, it all came crashing in on him and he cried. He didn’t know how long he wept, he simply released it all into Jim’s shoulder as the big man held him tightly. It was the first time Blair had ever faced so much evil in one place, in one person. And yet he had survived, thanks to Jim. “My Blessed Protector…” he muttered.

Jim rubbed soothingly along his back. “Blessed Protector? What’s that about, Chief?”

Blair chuckled. “Certain Asian cultures believe that if you save a man’s life, you are responsible for that man as long as you live.”

Jim grinned. “Then I think we are even, kiddo. Cause you saved my life before this.”

Blair looked up and matched his gaze to Jim’s. “You mean the garbage truck? No way man, that was like… no Jim, I can’t take responsibility for your life.”

Jim sighed as he stroked a hand through Blair’s curls. “The garbage truck would have killed me, you saved me… end of story. Plus ever since then you’ve been helping me with these senses, keeping me sane and out of a mental institution. You save my life every day.”

Blair blushed. “Yeah well… I’m glad I can help.” He shivered again as another wave of cold air wafted in from under the fire escape door. Jim tightened his hold on Blair, his chin resting on the curly head.

“You help just fine, Chief… And I think tonight I can help you with these nightmares. Come on.” So saying, Jim stood and urged Blair to do likewise. They left the cold little room and climbed the stairs to Jim’s loft where he bundled Blair into one side of the big queen sized bed. Once the young man was settled, the older man joined him, back to back. Just before Jim was completely settled, he leaned over and whispered in Blair’s ear. “It’s only when you get freaked out by all this. You and me have to look out for each other, you know?”

Blair settled in with a sigh and a whispered thank you to his friend. Down below, Panther lay on Blair’s bed with Wolf tucked into his side, one great black paw laying across the grey side of his companion.  



End file.
